nothing more to do with me. He had said his piece, and now he was finished with it. I watched him go. Robert stayed with me. âYou want me to bring you something, Paul?â he asked.
âNo,â I said, going down the steps.
âWell, then come on back in the kitchen and get yourself something. Thereâs a lot of good food in thereâham and fried chicken, dumplings, sweet-potato pie andââ
âDonât want any,â I replied, and started across the yard.
âWhere you going?â Robert called. âYour mama told George and me you were to stay on this porch!â
âWell, thatâs between my mama and me!â
âYou leave, you gonna miss out on all this good food!â
I stopped long enough to turn and shout, âLast thing I want is my daddyâs food from a table he doesnât even want me to sit at when his company comes calling!â As I finished my words, I saw that Hammond was standing at the corner of the house. I knew he saw me too, but I didnât care. I turned and ran toward the woods with Robert calling after me to come back.
I headed for the creek. Before I reached it, Hammond joined me. âMind some company?â he asked.
âItâs your woods,â I retorted, feeling a sudden anger and resentment for all my brothers as well as my daddy.
âI thought we all lived here,â said Hammond.
âI might live here,â I returned, âbut thereâs not a thing I see hereâs mine.â
Hammond didnât say anything to that. He just walked along beside me in silence for some while as we made our way through the woods. After a while he said, âTell me something, Paul. You mad at everybody today or just our daddy?â
I glanced up at Hammond. âWho said I was mad?â
Hammond laughed. âYou think I donât know when youâre mad? Ever since you were a bit of a boy, youâd always go off by yourself when you got mad. You wouldnât put up a holler like Robert or fight like Cassie and George; youâd just go off by yourself.â
âI suppose you figure I got no reason to be mad.â
âNow, I didnât say that. From what I been hearing, I know what youâre mad about, and I donât blame you for it. Fact is, I know how you feel.â
I turned on Hammond. âHow could you know anything about how I feel? How could you know how it feels being caught between colored folks and white folks? How could you know how it feels to be sent off from our daddyâs house when his white company comes calling? How could you know anything?â
Hammond scratched at his neck. âYou think youâre the only one ever felt this way? Well, Paul, I might not know exactly how it feels to be turned away from our daddyâs table, but I sure know how it feels to hate and resent our daddy, and I sure enough know how it feels to be caught between colored folks and white folks. I know how it feels too to resent the hell out of your own blood, your own brother and sister.â
I stopped, and Hammond did too. He looked straight into my eyes. âYou know, when Cassie was born, I was only three. But when you were born, and Robert, I was nine and old enough to understand some things about our daddy, and old enough to understand some things about my mama and how she was feeling. My mama was a good woman, but you know she had to feel bad about our daddy going off being with a colored woman and having children with her. Your mama had four children with our daddy, two of them stillborn, and I remember my mama saying once it was the justice of the Lord that those babies died.
âThen when my mama was expecting Robert, she found out you were born, and I can only imagine what that was like for her, her expecting a baby same time as your mama. She got sick with fever when she was carrying Robert, and she died soon after he was born. Now, you know I had to resent your mama, you, and
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